Just like Sky Blue Sky and Wilco (The Album), there's songs that are more ambitious and some that are more successful, but all of them fit as a cohesive whole, just as on every Wilco album so far.

Like an unexpected fist in the face from a five-year-old, Ponytail’s boisterous pop-punk jams are saved from saccharine overkill with some unexpectedly tight hooks, plus a paradoxical, feathery lightness of touch that makes their music feel orgasmically flush even at its churningest and most densely impenetrable.

Transgender Dysphoria Blues demands a more visceral reaction than mere respect. These songs have just as much heart as they do guts, and the LP stands as Against Me!’s first forward looking album since Searching For A Former Clarity.

If you’ve any interest, whatsoever, in rock music in any of its subgenre forms, you need to afford Blood Mountain some considerable attention.

There is a lovely, childish innocence to how much fun you can hear them having on this record, revisiting the music that once made them dream of making music their life’s work.

Teen Dream is kind of MOR, it would go down a treat at a dinner party, there are boring bits and the doleful DIY magic of the debut seems to have more or less run out. But it’s shot through with more than a handful of heartstoppingly wonderful moments.

The whole record possesses an industrial feel, be it in the synths or the drum machines or the moody-sounding atmospherics that are peppered throughout the record. Option Paralysis, may not win back fair-weather fans, but they've again proved why they're regarded as one of the best in their field.

Nine Types of Light feels like the work of a band more than content to make a good album - a really, very, very good album, yes - but only because they can't be bothered to make a great one.

In what’s been a tremendous year for female singers thus far (see releases from Marissa Nadler, Bat For Lashes, Emmy The Great and fellow Portland-er Laura Gibson), this is yet another to add to the pile.

Not once does Overpowered really drag its feet, but it never truly impacts with the might one could possibly expect from an artist with such a fine pedigree.

The only thing is presence and the present. The modest conclusion to a modest and warm album, is that Eden might be closer than you think.

Breathtaking[ly] experimental.

Metz make you want to rock and then roll and then rock a bit more. By the end of this album's 30 boisterous minutes you'll feel absolutely exhausted.

A fitting eulogy.

It never really lets itself go enough to really explode and take things to the next level but it’s in its reserve, precision and craft that its charm really lies.

The standout pieces are the lengthier ones. Perhaps, if you are already aware of her work on Ceremony, then The Miraculous will not be a surprise to you. But if you have not, then it may well be a complete revelation.

Årabrot are still unhinged. There’s still the sense that this is a dangerous band.... However, here we also see a side of Årabrot that’s ever more suitable for the fading, decaying grandeur that surrounds all of us: one that is increasingly sonically diverse and eloquent.

With one less guitarist, bass lines lie exposed more often than before; the riffs that should sheath them are scorched, ripped, patched. Even without reading into the lyrics, songs like 'Running All Over the Wicket' stab with enough Melvins-ish menace to draw blood. And where other albums offered some reprieve from the violence (like 'City of Exploded Children' or 'French Lessons'), there’s no rest in sight here.

The set-list is a sprawling interweavement of new and older material. Wrigglesworth and J Willgoose esq take their time, lengthening out some of their songs, paring back and experimenting with tone and texture. The richness of the instrumentals gives a warmth that enhances the hypnotising quality of tracks such as ‘E.V.A’ and ‘If War Should Come’. ... It’s unfortunate, then, that PSB’s communication method of choice in-between songs is a set of pre-recorded audio snippets.

Exorcism is very often an uncompromising listen, but the truth that Wilson exposes makes it hard not to galvanise around her. Her sheer unwillingness to sugar-coat the truth is harrowing yet inspiringly brave.

Both musically and lyrically, Utopia is extraordinarily gripping and majestically consistent in its intent to shake and uplift. If there is one aspect that runs the risk of breaking the spell it is its duration.

Tipping just over the 30-minute mark, Epic is a beautifully formed, sonically engaging work.

In the hands of many other artists, White Lunar would be a career-high achievement. It’s testament to Cave and Ellis’ ongoing relevance that it can be released with relatively minimal fanfare--presumably with the knowledge that it’s merely the tip of a mighty, mighty iceberg.

Wanna hear the real masters of puppets? Pop this record on and recoil as you realise the aforementioned are but limp and loose-limbed marionettes compared to Mastodon’s array of all-conquering modern metal cacophonies.

In spite of its sweeping musical and thematic ambitions, The Electric Lady emerges as a surprisingly coherent listen.

On Life, Friel doesn’t venture too far from his own post, but does prove himself yet again as more than a mere dial-twiddler, a virtual dungeon master that plots campaigns with sound instead of words.

It may not quite equal Person Pitch or Tomboy, but in its own way could prove to be even more important for Noah Lennox.

If you’re already a Lanegan obsessive, Has God Seen My Shadow? might not be for you, although the lavish presentation of the physical release sounds like it might be tempting. For those that have always been intrigued by this shadowy sideman and want to learn more, or for anyone with a love of dark, poetic songwriting, this anthology is easily the best overview of his solo work around.

It's not entirely successful, but also it's far from a failure--and it's certainly a unique piece of art that shouldn't be dismissed after the first or second listen.

As a whole the record is coherent, but contrast, juxtaposition and the element of surprise are the missing pieces of the puzzle.

It may lack the fictional cryptic storytelling of Pallett's past work but such elements were merely peripheral to the overall picture--this is art set loose on pop with its teeth bared.

It’s melodically strong enough, and bursting with so many ideas that it feels incredibly timeless: futuristic and classic all at once.

What they have created is a consistent work which showcases the band’s diversity as well as their skill and passion in making music which treads the ground between weird and wonderful.

Executed with serious flair, it manages the rare feat of being both mentally stimulating and musically satisfying. It is, in every regard, one of the most daring albums you’ll hear this year.

With only the occasional deviation into science fiction filler, Themes for an Imaginary Film is an album to strut to.

Qualm is a record of fiery, analogue experimentations and jams, executed by one of the most informed specialists in weird, retro gear and obscure electro rave. Hauff turns up the Hauffist sound up to ten. It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but the kids in Berghain will love it.

If Luminiferous has a flaw then it is its length.... On the whole, however, this is a difficult album to throw too many critiques at.

Imarhan is the sound the band have spent their whole lives perfecting and it comes across like a best of. Given that they've probably got a lot more in the back catalogue that didn't make the cut for this album, there's definitely more to come from the Imarhan arsenal, but this is a great start.

While Collapse won't go down as one of James's landmark Aphex Twin releases, however, its consistency and striving ambition to keep moving the project forward, both as a familiar, welcome friend but one that challenges you incessantly is highly appreciated.

Throughout Europe, they manage to make that sound like a pretty nice place to be, and also serve a timely reminder that there's life in such a simple but effective style of music.

In itself, this serves as testament to Hecker’s ever more potent ability to make music that feels alive, that is successful on both a physical and mental level.

Newman is easily distracted and that can make Dark Matter a confusing listen at points, but when he gets it right, you’re reminded of what a singular talent he is.

Where YFIIP meticulously arranged the collective of instrumentation for precision, like a ballet, this self-titled album throws everything into a blender, almost completely overwhelming the pretty melodies underneath - but not quite.

Zun Zun Egui's endlessly enjoyable second album is a bold and brilliant statement--an amorphous thing that entices and beguiles whilst simultaneously delivering heart-quickening thrills.

This is a dense, rewarding--and yes, fun--record.

In an industry that so often seems dizzily preoccupied with a desire for the shock of the new, real or wilfully imagined, we should be grateful that a bunch of steady-goers like Elbow have continued to perfect their craft and simultaneously achieve such acclaim and recognition.

Imperfections define personality and The Waiting Room wears its flaws well. Don’t let them put you off. This is a rich, warm, comfort blanket of a record, marbled with veins of darkness and light.

Some songs come close, but none hit quite as hard as Stranger in the Alps’ haunting bookends. All the same, the record is a stunning achievement, and one that heralds the arrival of a major talent, undoubtedly in it for the long haul.

If all that sounds like heavy going, a slightly bitter pill to swallow, fair warning, it is. But if you appreciate the effort that goes into crafting a record like this by giving it the repeated plays it needs, you're going to find a piece of work you'll come back to again and again.

Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light 1 is not just an inevitable player in album of the year discussions for those with more avant garde tastes; it's yet more proof of Earth's symptomatic tendency to continuously re-evaluate their own legacy and drag themselves forward simultaneously.

So many names, so many influences: perhaps unsurprisingly 'Demon Days' is a dizzying, disorientating and sometimes directionless album.

From high drama to mystery, tension to grandeur, just about every feeling and emotion is touched upon in the 34 tracks on offer. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a seasoned gamer or simply interested in the genesis of electronic music; the innovative, evocative sounds on offer here will transport you to distant, vibrant pixel-based lands.

So while it is more of the same, when that same is such an unpretentious joy to listen to it's churlish to complain. That's not to say it's perfect though: one or two tracks are slightly stretched beyond their natural life.

No one concept album, even one with the complexity of America, could ever hope to fully address the manifold problems of the USA, but in searching for his own answers Dan Deacon has crafted an unique testament to this fact and to his own inimitable, and ever increasing, talents.

Bike For Three! don’t often have the danceable poppiness of Neon Neon (though don’t get me wrong, they never drift into the background) but it’s hard not to think of that other collaboration for the simple reason: embracing a slick, futuristic, highly-produced sound has unexpectedly brought about the best album yet, by all concerned

It’s rare to find an electronic full length that manages to feel so varied, and yet also so harmonious in its uncompromising vision.

Though inconsistent, this record is remarkably accomplished and immediate.

Like its predecessor, Now Only lays profoundly bare Elverum’s grief. But although it is often an excruciating listen, it also finds room to step, however briefly, outside of the agony that marked its predecessor, if just for long enough to suggest that Elverum is, somehow, beginning to find some relief in the unbearable.

You won’t hear a more exhilarating, dizzying record for a long time to come.

Around two thirds of Theatre Is Evil's songs are bolted to the chassis of a loud, poppy guitar band, bringing inescapably to the fore Palmer's gift for killer-catchy melodies and stratospheric contrapuntal arrangements.

The one-man band that is Rostam Batmanglij enjoys co-billing status here as the pair deliver a follow-up that goes bigger and better in the way that a worthy sequel should.

Almost universally, Immunity is an album which puts a well-placed confidence in rewarding the patience of the listener, melding together current club trends with a vulnerable humanity to create an hour-long arc of total immersion.

The Monitor, then, is a boisterous, eloquent argument that rock music need not be dumb in order to be enjoyable, moreover, that we should be questioning and analysing our heritage rather than precariously stumbling onwards. But mostly, it's just a stupendous collection of songs; one that demands to be listened to as loudly as you can possibly get away with.

With The Lookout, Veirs has synthesised both these personal and political feelings into something that can sometimes feel timeless, offering a beacon to hold in the darkness.

Truly, Wide Awake! is a success all round--the joyous sound of a band taking everything that makes them great and amplifying it, toying with it and producing something even greater.

Whilst Wolfgang Amadeus... is clunker-free, with high points from start to finish, allow me to abandon my critical faculties and gush about 'Love Like a Sunset Part 1', as this instrumental is by far the most incredible moment of the album and also quite possibly the best thing they've ever done.

On Air feels like the other bookend [to Blue & Lonesome], with the track listing dominated as it is by similar covers; it’s just that, this time, they crackle with youthful energy, rather than glow in the warm gaze of riper eyes.

Perhaps the great achievement is that, in delivering an album that invites close scrutiny, These New Puritans create an aural haven from the very lifestyle Field of Reeds challenges.

To that extent Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle seems like a return to older pastures--Callahan’s vocals again dominate, the production is more intimate, the songs themselves are again driven forward by the self-same rhythmic percussion and simple guitar riffs that became Callahan’s signature style over the last decade.

Shadows in the Night is an extremely well-made covers album that feels divorced from Dylan’s day-job.

Their songwriting here, then, betrays not just a love for interesting sonics but hooks and harmonies too. Contrary to popular belief, they aren't just about obscuring their melody behind tape hiss and grungy no-wave like a lot of their similar sounding peers.

Wells’s piano is still the most dominant instrument on display, and Moffat is still crafting haunting tales of ageing regret and frustration. There is, however, something bizarrely hopeful about The Most Important Place in the World at times.

Wired with a sense of opportunity, these little Caesars continue to play mother's favourite rather than the ostracised gurning recluses they initially cast themselves as.

A Small Turn Of Human Kindness really does sound like some bad shit has gone down. To this end, you have to assume HM have succeeded in their intentions, although they tend to be sardonic and inscrutable by design.

There's nothing showy here, nothing flashy, just an understated, immaculately put together collection of happy and sad, yearning and sweet songs.

Simply another shimmering LP from a truly original band.

In many places, this record sounds and feels like a migraine captured on tape, and that is not a pleasant experience, nor is it meant to be. Unlike the more luscious, shoegaze influence that's pervaded Black Metal in recent years, this feels like an absolute rejection of that, being as difficult and painful to experience as possible.

While 4:44 may not be his greatest album, it is a much valued deviation from the norm, a surprising feat considering his kaleidoscopic catalog

What at first appears to be aggression is actually 100 per cent anguish, and the prevailing sense is that, like Black Flag, every ounce of that angst has been funnelled into edge, bone-crunching rigour and the sculpting of their largely unprecedented style into austere angles.

Despite a miss or two, with Cows On Hourglass Pond Tare will likely appease even the most weary AnCo audiences, stringing together an album that is sonically ornate, scintillating, and poetically metaphysical.

Despite its supernatural setting and modern day political commentary, you get the sense that Yorke remains hopeful amongst the darkness. Perhaps this is down to age, perhaps it’s some sort of foolishness--but the optimism never completely fades from Suspiria and gives it a human quality that is not immediately obvious amidst the Seventies synths and modal incantations.

The production throughout Vampire Weekend is perfect, holding all the various threads together as a coherent whole that manages to sound simple without ever being underwhelming.

The achievement of The Seldom Seen Kid is that Elbow manage to be both incredibly consistent and perpetually improving.

Album two may see an outline of refinement established, but for now their doldrums meanderings are more exhilarating than many acts’ most-accomplished must-haves, making this a two-from-two contender for a top-ten year-end finish.

Of course there will always be some who are sceptical and ultimately dismissive of mainly instrumentally-based, experimental rock albums such as this, and on hearing White Fields And Open Devices I'd say the five members of Vessels are almost certainly among them. Which is exactly why they should be commended on making one of the most forward-thinking, non-generic records you're likely to hear this year.

The amalgam of Clark's one-of-a-kind vocal and Toydrum's inventive soundscaping would, under normal circumstances have Evangelist marked out as a modern classic.

The danger of a concept album, is it can end up sounding like a mismatched collection of tunes that have been lumped together because they fall under the same umbrella. Romare has avoided this trap by creating a body of work that expertly weaves through all the subtleties of falling in and out of love, and everything in between.

Williams has managed to get out from under the pressure of having to be the perma-grinning frontwoman, and the emotional uncertainty that’s exposed is fascinating. Musically, meanwhile, this is as free as they’ve ever sounded. Again: Paramore have always been a pop band. They’ve just never been this proud of it.

Wild Mountain Nation stands alone as something of interest and disregard to the normal guidelines and restrictions in guitar pop.

Moments of genuine marvel, each one craving its own flowery descriptives, come thick and fast.

It’s just a little too saggy round the middle.

There's the occasional dud, and occasional dull moment, but Pale Green Ghosts mostly succeeds in expanding Grant's musical palette, and his wry, knowing observations and lyricism remain as sharp as ever.

Familiars, then, is unsurprisingly, immensely moving.... But Familiars lacks any real musical inventiveness.

There's not yet a band that can evoke the intangible nostalgia that the Radio Dept. do, but at least with this release we can be assured we don't need there to be.

This isn’t background noise, it demands your attention through its rich and layered compositions. But it's never overly fussy, rather it’s maximalism through a less is more approach.

A majestic return that doesn't just fill in the gaps, but points unflinchingly towards future horizons.

Honeys is a savvy, all-inclusive slab of disenchanted rage that doesn't hold back at any juncture.

My only qualm with The Magic Place is with its song structure. Each of the nine songs starts sparsely, weaves into an intricate texture, bulges with layered loops and then tails off.